


The One Where It Leads To Something More

by Alanwolfmoon



Category: House M.D.
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-23
Updated: 2010-03-23
Packaged: 2017-10-08 06:26:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/73661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alanwolfmoon/pseuds/Alanwolfmoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>House finds out about Chase's method for dealing with Cameron leaving, and takes part in that method.  It leads to something more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One Where It Leads To Something More

**Author's Note:**

> This work was written by Alanwolfmoon for the House Big Bang Challenge: Round Three.

Wilson bit his lip, frowning a bit, as he walked into his friend's office, and found House sitting at the computer, typing.

"What happened?"

House glanced up at his friend. "What do you mean?"

Wilson pointed at the older doctor's wrists, which were bandaged, wrapped in gauze.

"Oh... uh, nothing."

"Right." Wilson reached, gripping his friend's hand. "What did you do to yourself?"

House rolled his eyes, pulling his hand away. "I didn't do anything."

Wilson looked him over. House didn't... look... depressed, or sick, or in pain... though he had winced a bit when Wilson grabbed his hand. "House..."

House sighed, shaking his head. "I didn't do anything to myself."

"Then... what happened?"

House looked at Wilson, irritated, then sighed again, and unwrapped one wrist.

Wilson could see that the bandage had been on for a while, by the discoloration of the gauze.

"What..."

House showed Wilson the red, irritated, broken skin. "Okay? No slit wrists, no straight cuts. I didn't do anything to myself."

He tossed the used gauze into his trash can, and reached for the first aid kit under his desk.

Wilson pulled the kit away from him. "You needed to change the bandage anyway. Let me see."

House sighed, rolling his eyes, as Wilson pulled a chair around and sat in front of him, unwrapping the other wrist.

The second bandage was covering more raw, broken skin, but it was even more abused than the other wrist.

Wilson frowned, gently cleaning the areas of broken skin. "House... what happened?"

"Nothing."

"Not nothing."

"Nothing I couldn't have stopped if I wanted to."

"You said you didn't do this to yourself."

The door opened. "Hey, I got reservations at—"

Wilson turned around, blinking at the Australian, who had stopped, noticing what was going on, and was turning a very interesting shade of red.

House groaned, "Out."

Chase fled.

Wilson slowly looked back at his friend. "You..."

House looked at his shoes, then out at the hallway, then at Wilson. "Yeah, okay? Not what you're thinking, but yeah."

"How much different from what I'm thinking-- you... you're the other woman, you do realize that, right?"

"It isn't adultery if the person isn't involved with anyone-- including you."

"Cameron--"

"Broke up with him last week. He ended up in my office, upset. We talked. He was worked up. I let him sleep on my couch. We ate breakfast, he went apartment shopping, I went to work. Last night I was going to the OT-- after work and I saw him, going into a... club."

Wilson blinked, slowly, then fixed his eyes downwards on the wounds he was swabbing. "What... kind of club?"

"The kind of club that's... less than safe for pretty men that don't have a clue what they're doing."

"So... you of course followed him in?"

"Yeah. Kinda surprised I got past the bouncers, actually."

"And then?"

"And then I told him he was an idiot and dragged him out of there."

"...And?"

"And he explained that... he wasn't looking to... well, be the submissive."

Wilson stopped, looking at his friend's face. "And you--"

House glared. "No. Get your mind out of the gutter. But he was really upset, and I was curious, so I... kind of let him tie me up. Just tie me up. It wasn't a bit deal, and nothing happened besides that."

"..."

House rolled his eyes. "What? I thought I'd be interesting. It was. And it calmed him down. You can stop looking at me like that."

"And... what did he come in here for?"

"Dinner Thursday."

Wilson raised an eyebrow.

"You're going out with Amber that night anyway, what'd'you care?"

"I... are you sure you're okay?"

"My wrists hurt. God, what an awful thing."

"House?"

"What?"

"What... kind of dinner?"

"The kind where food is consumed at a restaurant, and where the guy who said he'd take the other guy out to dinner as an apology for tying the ropes too tight pays."

Wilson blinked. "Oh."

House rolled his eyes.

Wilson gently smoothed a piece of skin tape over the end of the gauze, and looked at his friend. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"I got tied up for half an hour and my wrists are scraped. I'm getting free food out of the deal. What do you think?"

Wilson chuckled, putting the first aid kit away. "Well, okay. I'll see you tomorrow."

House nodded. "Okay."

Wilson got up, and walked out.

House watched him go, shook his head, and turned back to his computer, absently rubbing his fingers over the edge of the gauze as he watched a DVD of General Hospital.

About a half hour later, Chase came back, looked around, and came over. "Hey. Sorry."

House shook his head, smirking a bit.

Chase smiled a little, nervously. "Uh... how's your wrists?"

House rolled his eyes. "Very well fussed over."

Chase snorted a little. "Uh-huh."

"What do you get out of it?"

Chase blinked. "Why?"

"Curious. I thought it was about control... but it wasn't. So what's it about?"

"It's about control for some people."

"But not for you."

"...Yeah."

"So what's it about?"

Chase sighed, sitting on the low bookcase next to the door to House's office. "It's about... at work, people trust me. They trust me with their bodies, their loved ones, their lives. I've never even met them before they put their lives in my hands. And... I've always got this little thought in the back of my head that... I shouldn't be doing this. I'm the wrong person, I'm just a doctor cause my Daddy said I should be one. I shouldn't be doing this.

"And... with Cameron... and everything... I just really felt like I wasn't the right person to be doing anything. I just... it's about trust with something... that I actually deserve to be trusted on. And, with you, it was about being trusted by someone who actually knows me, not a patient, or a coworker, or a stranger in a bar."

"I was a coworker. I'm barely that anymore."

"Yeah... true. But you know me a hell of a lot better than... say, Cameron."

House snorted.

Chase sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Time for the mocking?"

House shook his head, getting to his feet. "Nah. Time for lunch, maybe, but not mocking."

Chase blinked. "Really?"

"Well how am I gonna tell anyone without telling them I got tied up by *you*."

Chase laughed. "Of course, you wouldn't want to lose any of your street cred."

"Exactly."

Chase shook his head, holding the door for the older doctor, and following him down to the cafeteria.

"So," started House, absently munching on a french fry, "what were you gonna say when you came in the first time?"

Chase grinned around his straw, swallowed, and spoke. "I got reservations at this nice Italian place, just opened. Supposed to be really good."

House stared at him, flatly. "What, you think this is a date?"

Chase laughed, shaking his head. "No, but..." he shrugged a bit. "I really am sorry and grateful, and I wanna say thanks for letting me do it, and apologize for messing up."

House shook his head, disgustedly. "You're stupid."

"No, I'm sentimental, there's a difference. Mostly in salary-- which is good for you, since it means I can pay for dinner at a nice restaurant."

House actually laughed at that, making Chase look at him strangely.

* * *

House grunted to himself, as he stood in front of the mirror, awkwardly tugging at his collar, sighed, and pulled off his tie.

This wasn't a date, it was a an apology and a thank-you; why was he so worked up about it...

He grunted again, and limped to the couch, plopping himself down and turning on the TV.

* * *

Chase frowned at the green door adorned with the brass letter B, as it remained stubbornly unopened.

He'd waited outside for fifteen minutes, come up, and knocked for five, and now was glaring at the door.

House's bike and car were outside, the light was on, and Chase really couldn't think why he would be ignoring the guy offering to pay for dinner.

Chase finally started looking for a key, and eventually found one above House's doorframe.

He unlocked the door, and walked in.

There was some Discovery Chanel program on, with random animals roaming around, on the tv.

House was on the couch, asleep, feet clad in nice shoes propped up on the end of the couch, ironed shirt open at the collar, a tie draped across his chest.

Chase smiled a little, quietly closing the door behind himself.

Okay. So House hadn't just been ignoring him. That was a good start.

"Hey," he said, walking over. "House?"

He noticed that the gauze on the older doctor's wrists was fresh, which was good; House wasn't particularly known for taking care of himself.

House stirred a bit, and blinked at him, sleepily.

"Hey. You weren't answering your door."

House yawned, picked up his tie, from where it had fallen to the floor, and started trying to put it on, but failed completely.

Chase chuckled at him, and pushed his hands away and did it for him. "How did you even live to be fifty years old?"

House snorted. "Wilson."

Chase laughed, but only because it was the only thing he could think to do.

There was a sense, from the way House said it, of but not anymore, and it was kind of sad to hear.

"You ready?"

House nodded, reaching down to tie his shoes, then gripping his cane-- the black and silver one he'd taken to a few hospital benefits, which really was nice.

They were at the door, when House decided he had to pee, and shoved his cane at Chase to hold while he went.

Chase blinked at it, and sort of twirled it in his hands, like House so often did, until suddenly, the sliver end twisted off, and started to fall.

Chase grabbed at the shaft that fell out with it, and immediately felt pain burst in his palm and fingers. "Ah..."

The bathroom door opened, and House stuck his head out. "What?"

But then he saw blood dripping down onto the floor, and the cane, with it's hidden sword pulled halfway out, on the floor, and knew what had happened.

He zipped up, limped over, and sighed, taking Chase's hand and examining it, clinically. "You need stitches."

Chase groaned, leaning against the doorway, eyes closed, as House quickly bandaged it to at least minimize the bleeding, picked up the cane, wiped the blade off, and screwed it back together so he could use it to walk.

Chase seemed a bit woozy, and House grabbed his shoulder. "Hey. Where else did you cut yourself?"

Chase opened his eyes, looking pale. "Nowhere..."

House frowned at him. "Then what's wrong with you?"

"It hurts... and I... don't do well seeing my own blood."

"You're a surgeon."

"I don't have a problem with other people's blood."

House shook his head, and sort of nudged Chase down the steps.

* * *

Chase outright refused to go to PPTH-- Cameron was on call in the ER-- so House drove to St. Sebastian's, which was about twenty minutes further away than Princeton Plainsboro.

By the time they got to the hospital, Chase was woozy not just from the sight of his blood, but from how much blood he had lost.

House rested a hand on Chase's shoulder, directing him to the emergency room desk.

The woman gave him a form to fill out, and Chase took it, awkwardly, in his good hand, stumbling against his ex-boss.

House gently pushed him to a chair, and sat down next to him, taking the form out of his hand.

"You're on the hospital insurance program, right?"

Chase nodded tiredly, handing House his health insurance card, and closing his eyes, tiredly.

He didn't ask, after House handed him the completed form back, how the older doctor knew Chase had had his appendix out, or that his sister had migraines.

He got up, and walked across the room, handing the form back to the woman at the desk.

She took it, and told him they would call him when they were ready.

He nodded, and walked back to his chair.

His vision was swimming, and he felt sick.

There was an arm wrapped around his waist, then, suddenly, and he leaned into the body next to his own to keep himself upright.

"Hey, stop that. You're going to knock me over."

Chase blinked, and realized that the person holding him up wasn't hospital staff, or a helpful fellow patient; it was House, and he was struggling to keep both of them upright.

"Sorry."

House shook his head, as Chase straightened. "Whatever."

House pushed Chase down into the chair. "Stay."

Chase blinked, but watched the older doctor limp off.

House came back with a bag of beef jerky and a chocolate bar.

He unwrapped the chocolate, and snapped off a piece, handing it to Chase.

Chase ate the chocolate House handed him, and then the strips of dried beef.

He felt better, more coherent, as the sugar from the chocolate entered his system.

He sighed. "Sorry."

"Whatever."

Chase nodded, and started picking the bits of jerky out of his teeth.

His hand had mostly stopped bleeding, thanks to House's bandaging, but still hurt like hell, and the bandage was soaked with blood.

House reached over, and checked the bloodflow to each finger, which was there, though sluggish thanks to the pressure of the bandage.

Chase closed his eyes, biting his lip, as House checked the pulses in his hand. It hurt *so* much...

"Robert?"

He opened his eyes.

He realized he must have passed out, a nurse was standing in front of him, waiting.

"Uh." He sat, rubbing his eyes with his good hand. "What?"

"We'll move you to a ER bed now."

Chase nodded, getting to his feet, and stumbling a little against House, who was inexplicably still there.

When he woke, he was lying on a gurney in harshly lit hallway, fingers on his wrist, measuring his pulse.

"An artery was nicked by the blade," said House's voice, as Chase blinked tiredly at the ceiling. "So you were losing blood faster than I thought. We should have called an ambulance instead of driving, they would have seen you sooner. You needed a transfusion."

Chase turned to look at him, noticing for the first time that he had blood on his hands, sleeves, and the front of his shirt. "Uh..." murmured Chase, sleepily, "sorry I messed up your shirt."

House shook his head. "Nah. Now Wilson... can't complain if I don't wear it."

Chase, sleepy and woozy as he was, still did not miss the little pause after Wilson's name.

But he was too tired to say anything about it just then, so he simply reached out with his good hand, murmuring, as his fingers closed around a handful of House's shirt. "Sit down."

House snorted. "They barely gave you a transfusion, I don't think they're about to go fetch me a chair."

"Then sit on the bed..."

Chase scooted himself over a little, injured hand held against his chest as he moved.

House rolled his eyes, but did get up onto the gurney, and sit on the end of it, watching Chase.

After a while, House spoke. "You're gonna need surgery."

Chase, who had been half asleep, stared at him. "What?"

"It's not bad. But some tendons were injured that you'll need."

"But..."

Chase was still staring at him. "How bad?"

"...Bad enough that it could possibly affect your job-- as a surgeon, not as just a general doctor."

Chase closed his eyes. "House?"

"Hmm?"

"If... what am I suppose to do..."

"Nowhere near that yet. I'll page your doctor."

Chase closed his eyes, nodding wearily. "I'm sorry... I still owe you dinner. And a shirt."

House snorted, watching the younger doctor nod off, absently rubbing the bandage on his own wrist.

He watched Chase for a while, then started to get up to go pee, but stopped when Chase stirred at the movement of the bed.

He really didn't want Chase to wake up. The blond's last dose of morphine would be wearing off soon, and that wouldn't be fun for Chase, or for House, who would have to listen to Chase whining about how much it hurt.

But... he also needed to pee.

So he got up, and ignored the small sounds of pain as Chase came into wakefulness.

House came back, and found Chase sitting up, worked up and clearly hurting.

"Lie back."

Chase blinked at him. "Huh?"

"Just lie down."

Chase did, slowly, and House glared. "On your front."

Chase turned over, and then found that there were hands on his back, strong hands, rubbing firmly, kneading into muscles and tendons that were tense with pain.

He opened his mouth to protest, to ask why House was doing something so... friendly, but House pushed his head down into the pillow, not hard enough he couldn't breathe, but enough to stop him from talking.

"You need to calm down. Pain is a lot worse to handle when you're worked up."

"But..." mumbled Chase, muffled by the pillow.

"Shut up and calm down. It's raining, and you're a low priority, plus you're not in plain view anymore. It'll be a while before anyone gets to you."

Chase closed his eyes in misery.

But... he was calming down.

That was working.

He started to relax, a little, under House's hands.

The massage was at very best clinical, if not completely impersonal, but... it was helping.

His hand still hurt, but...

It was a bit more bearable, somehow.

House rubbed, until Chase was breathing slowly and deeply, eyes closed, face relaxed.

Then he stopped, and sighed. "I'll go try and find your doctor."

Chase nodded slowly into the pillow.

House left, limped away down the hall, turned a corner, and groaned.

Stupid Chase. Since when did seeing anyone upset or hurting have this kind--or any-- effect on him?

Stupid Chase.

He shook his head, and limped off to find Chase's doctor.

* * *

Chase groaned, weakly, as someone gripped his hand, turned his arm over, tied something around his arm, tapped his elbow.

"Chase. Open your eyes."

He did, slowly.

Familiar. Particular shade, very familiar.

"Chase."

Familiar turned away.

"He's out of it... this isn't good."

"It's probably just the pain and blood loss."

"That's my point."

"He's okay, Mr. House."

"Doctor."

"Dr. House."

Familiar eyes were back... that was good. Familiar was good.

He tried to reach towards those eyes, but it hurt.

"Chase. Stop moving."

He stopped. His vision was filled with dark spots, but that was okay.

As long as the familiar eyes were... still...

House let out a breath, as Chase's eyes fluttered closed.

He glared at the doctor until he left, then slowly, awkwardly, reached to rest a hand on Chase's shoulder.

He felt stupid, and removed it right away.

But Chase stirred, discomfort etching his face, and House rested it back down.

Chase calmed a little, face smoothing out.

House sighed, and let his hand rest there, as he stood, watching his blond ex-employee sleep.

Stupid Chase.

* * *

Wilson sighed, shouldering his bag, as he walked into the hospital room, sliding the door open with his hip so he didn't have to set down the coffee he was carrying.

House was zonked out in a chair, a chart held loosely in one hand, as he snored. He had what had been his dress shirt on, the bright white material a stark contrast to the blood it was soaked with. The bandage on his left wrist had also soaked up some of the crimson.

Chase was dozing, though he didn't look very peaceful, eyes darting restlessly under his lids. His right hand was wrapped in surgical gauze, and there was an IV going into his left arm.

Wilson walked in, and put his bag on the floor, reaching to shake House's shoulder.

House stirred, under Wilson's hand, and half dropped the chart, before regaining his grip on it. "Huh?"

He looked up at Wilson, rubbing his eyes sleepily, muttering, "Uh... hey..."

"Hey. What happened?"

House yawned. "Coffee first."

Wilson handed it to him.

House sniffed, then held out his hand. "Sugar."

Wilson handed him a plastic bag with a handful of packets in it.

House dumped five packs in, for some reason not letting go of the chart, so he did the whole thing one-handed.

Wilson rolled his eyes.

House blew on the coffee, then started gulping it down.

By the time the cup was empty, House seemed more awake, and looked at Wilson much more coherently. "We were going to go to dinner. I handed him the cane with the sword in it, that you gave me for Christmas."

Wilson nodded, leaning against the wall, facing House.

"He'd been trying to twirl it, and it got unscrewed, and the sword came out, and he cut himself on it. I drove him to the hospital, around eight last night."

House rubbed a hand over his face, scratching his stubble, then continued. "He went into surgery around two, got out around four."

Wilson nodded. "Is he gonna be okay?"

House shrugged, playing with the cover on his empty coffee cup. "He's not going to die or anything."

"Is his hand going to be okay?"

"Some of the nerves were damaged, but it should be mostly okay."

"I'll go get you a fresh shirt."

House shook his head. "Nah. He's going to be released after he talks to his doctor."

Wilson nodded. "Okay."

House eyed him, suspiciously. "Why are you smiling?"

Wilson shrugged, a little. "I thought it was weird that you let him do something to you that hurt-- actualy, no I think I found it weird that you let him be in control. But... I think you... I think you took a chance and put your trust in him, and that he... didn't let you down. And that maybe--"

House rolled his eyes. "Okay, enough. Forget I asked."

Wilson shrugged.

House sighed a little, and glanced at Chase, still asleep in the hospital bed, then looked back at Wilson.

"What?"

Wilson smiled. "I think you're starting to trust him. And I know he trusts you."

House looked away, still holding onto the chart with his right hand.

* * *

"You really don't have to drive me home... I mean, I can get a cab..."

House glared at the blond. "What?"

Chase sighed a little. "You look like crap, you probably didn't get much sleep, and I don't feel like getting into a car accident just now."

House shook his head, as they reached the elevator, and he pushed the button with the tip of his cane. "I look like crap because my leg hurts, I slept about as much as I ever do, and I'm not gonna crash."

Chase looked at him, for a moment, then slowly shrugged. "Okay, if you really want to..."

House didn't respond, just got into the elevator.

Chase followed him, standing just an inch or two closer than he normally would have.

House shifted his weight, and Chase made to step away, but then there was a hand in the small of his back. "Stop it. I told you my leg hurts."

Chase nodded, slowly stepping back in.

The hand on his back left, as more people filed into the elevator, and House shifted again, but he was able to see that it was accompanied by a slight grimace of pain.

"Are you--"

"Fine," snapped House, "you're the one that got my shirt all bloody."

"I said I was--"

"Forget it. I'm not... just forget it."

Chase looked at him for a moment, then shifted just a little bit closer again.

House didn't shift or step away.

"House?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you..."

"Am I what?"

"Okay."

"Yes."

"Not... I mean, are you physically okay?"

"Yes."

"You... don't look okay."

"I am."

"I don't think you are."

"I'm fine."

"House... um... please pull over."

"I said I'm fine."

"You're scaring me. Please pull over."

House glanced at the younger doctor, then turned the steering wheel, pulling off into a 7-11 parking lot.

Chase wouldn't look at him, after they stopped, and House sighed.

"Chase. Look."

Chase slowly raised his head, and looked over at the older doctor.

House had turned the dome light on, and it was illuminating the two lever sort of things attached to the steering column, with sticks going down to the pedals.

He blinked. "What..."

"Hand controls. Okay? You're right, it'd be a bad idea for me to try and drive with my leg right now, but I'm not."

Chase looked at him, for a moment.

"House?"

"What?"

"You... I'm sorry."

"Nah."

"I don't mean about asking you to pull over. I'm sorry you ended up having to spend the night in the hospital."

House shook his head, as he put the car into drive, and turned around. "My car was in the parking lot. I could have left at any time."

"I know, but--"

"That's settled, then."

Chase was silent for a little while, as they pulled back out onto the road and drove.

"Can I sleep on your couch?"

"No."

"Oh."

"Why the hell would you want to sleep on my couch? You've got a bed..."

"Not really... it was Cameron's apartment. I've been sleeping in a hotel."

"That's... sad."

"I know."

"Sleeping on my couch is even sadder."

"But your couch is comfy..."

House snorted.

Chase's tone was just...

"You're stoned."

"Yeah, but that's not the point."

House shook his head. "Whatever."

"Does that mean yes?"

"It means I'm not going to argue with a stoned person."

He knew Chase was a little worked up and scared about his hand, and that it was probably better for the blond to stay with someone for at least a day or two.

It wasn't the end of the world-- Chase had slept on his couch for a few days when the younger doctor's apartment had been fumigated, back before Cameron was hired.

House knew that other than a tendency to fall asleep on the toilet, the blond really wasn't any trouble to have staying with him.

Chase had fallen asleep, by the time they got to House's apartment.

House got out, and limped around to the passenger side, reaching across the blond to shake his left shoulder, avoiding jostling his right hand.

Chase stirred, and woke, and slowly got out of the car.

He walked up the steps, and waited against the wall beside House's apartment, as House came up after him, and unlocked the door.

House watched him lean, for a moment, before gripping his shoulder, and fairly gently nudging him inside.

The blond was clearly exhausted, and just curled up on the couch, eyes closed, as soon as he reached it.

"Uh-uh."

Chase opened his eyes.

House was standing there, watching him.

"Your shirt's all bloody. I have enough bodily fluids in my couch as it is."

Chase blinked, but sat up and pulled off his unbuttoned shirt, before curling back up on the couch.

He didn't register a blanket being tossed over him, as he drifted off into sleep.

When he woke, it was to music.

He blinked a little, and yawned, stretching.

House was sitting at the piano, frowning down at it.

Chase smiled, sitting up.

"What were you playing?"

House looked at him, and shrugged. "Nothing in particular."

Chase yawned again, and got to his feet, starting to head towards the bathroom.

House watched him, shook his head, and turned back to trying to figure out what it was possible to play with just his left hand.

The answer was... not very much that he was interested in playing.

He sighed, shaking his head, and got to his feet, gripping his cane and limping out to the kitchen, to fill a glass of water.

That, he did automatically with one hand, since he was holding his cane.

He snorted a little, at the realization that he actually knew quite a bit about what annoyances Chase was going to run into.

He carried the glass into the livingroom, took the childproof lids off Chase's pill bottles-- what idiot had decided that was a good idea?-- and picked up the blanket off the floor.

He rolled his eyes, realizing Chase hadn't come back from the bathroom, yet.

Chase stirred, as something shook him.

He opened his eyes, raising his head off the hard, cool surface it had been resting against.

He was in House's bathroom, leaning against the wall next to the toilet.

He blushed, but House just rolled his eyes, and limped out.

House was sitting on the couch, when Chase came back, and sat down.

Chase reached for his pills, and frowned, seeing that the lids were off.

He looked at House, still frowning.

He... really didn't think House would have stolen his pain medication... much less his antibiotics...

House shook his head. "Childproof lids."

Chase looked back at the lids, then at House. "Sorry."

House shook his head.

Chase took his meds, and then curled up on the half of the couch House wasn't occupying.

"House?"

"What?"

"Can we put off dinner until I'm not on narcotics?"

House snorted. "Uh-huh."

Chase smiled a little, into the cushions. "Mmm... good."

House watched him for a while, then shook his head, and limped back to the piano.

* * *

House sighed, leaning against the bathroom doorway, a few days later.

Chase was once again asleep in the bathroom, on the toilet.

It wasn't that it was a big deal, it was just weird. Chase would toss and turn on the couch, while House was reading or whatever, mumble something about needing to pee, go into the bathroom, and not come out. House would find him there, an hour, two hours later, asleep, sitting on the toilet or sometimes on the floor, with his pants on and zipped up.

House leaned his cane against the doorway, and limped in, gripping the blond's shoulders, and easing him away from the wall.

He didn't even stir, as House lowered him down to the floor, and arranged him on his side.

Chase opened his eyes.

He was on the floor of House's bathroom, which was becoming ridiculously common-- stupid pain meds-- but this time with a blanket over top of him, and a pillow under his head.

He got up, and padded out into the livingroom, carrying the blanket and pillow awkwardly in his arms.

House was watching TV, and barely seemed to notice, when Chase joined him on the couch.

After a while of just sitting there in companionable silence, House spoke. "Why do you keep falling asleep in the bathroom?"

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry isn't an answer."

"I... when I was a kid, I would camp out in the bathroom."

House looked at him, strangely.

Chase shook his head, sighing a little.

House watched him for a while, then spoke again. "Your mom."

Chase nodded. "She would come home in the middle of the night, drunk. She'd pass out in the bathroom. I'd camp out in there, so when she got home, it would wake me up, and I would be able to..."

House shook his head, letting Chase know he didn't have to explain further.

Chase nodded, looking away. "It was the only place I didn't have to worry. And... I don't know, I think I'm having a bad reaction to the meds. I keep having really vivid dreams."

"Narcotics and antibiotics both have a tendency to do tend to do that."

Chase bit his lip, feeling really stupid. "I'm sorry. I know it's weird. I just sit in there and try and calm down, and by the time I'm calm, I'm asleep."

House looked at him for a moment, then got to his feet, and limped into his bedroom.

Chase blinked, and followed him, pausing by the doorway before coming in at House's nod.

House was pushing stuff out of the way, in a big closet, and finally managed to pull out a big, olive-green cloth tube.

He awkwardly carried it out past Chase, and Chase followed him to the bathroom, and found him setting up a cot.

"What..."

House looked up at him, and shrugged. "You have any idea how long it's been since I cleaned my bathroom floor? Your hand shouldn't be anywhere near it."

Chase blinked for a moment, then nodded slowly, realizing he wasn't really supposed to believe the older doctor.

House brought the blanket and pillow in, dumped them on the cot, and then limped out.

Chase followed him back to the couch, and sat down.

They watched TV in silence for a while, before Chase finally couldn't stand it anymore, and spoke. "Why do you keep doing this stuff?"

House looked at him, frowned, and turned off the TV.

"What stuff?"

"...Helping me. You let me tie you up, you spent the night in the hospital with me, you're letting me stay at your apartment, you set up a cot in the bathroom. Why?"

House shook his head. "We're not having this conversation now."

"Why not?"

"Because you're stoned."

Chase blinked a bit, but sighed, nodding.

House had a point.

Chase scowled down at the cutting board.

He could hold the knife, or he could hold the tomato.

He couldn't do both.

He glared at the offending fruit some more, then growled, and shoved it into the sink.

The shuffling of papers from the island stopped, and he sighed, knowing House had noticed his violence at the unsuspecting plant product.

"What happened?"

"I... couldn't cut a tomato."

House got up, and joined him at the counter, picking up another tomato from the bowl and putting it on the cutting board.

He held it in place, as Chase chopped, carefully, with his left hand.

Chase looked at him, silently, aquamarine eyes dark and confused, after finishing the three tomatoes Chase needed to cut up.

House shrugged. "I'm hungry," and then limped away out of the kitchen.

Chase shook his head, and went back to making the sandwiches he'd been attempting to make before being stumped by the tomatoes. His hand was healing well, but his fingers were clumsy and weak-- he couldn't write well, or hold much of anything. It was getting to be rather frustrating.

House was dozing on the couch, when he came out, carrying the tomato melts on a big plate with his left hand.

It had been a ten days, since he'd hurt himself, and he was still sleeping in House's bathroom.

It was the weirdest living arrangement he'd ever had, but House showed no signs of being at all bothered by it, or having any intention of kicking Chase out.

So Chase made dinner one handed and slept in House's bathroom.

He'd stopped taking the painkillers two days before, and it was clear by now that the antibiotics were the cause of the vivid dreams he was experiencing.

He blinked, as he set the tray down on the coffee table.

"House."

House grunted, sleepily.

"House, wake up."

House groaned, and buried his face in the pillow.

"Food."

House sat up, rubbed his face sleepily, then reached for one of the sandwiches.

Chase pushed his hand away, sitting on the couch beside the older doctor.

House looked at him in confusion.

Chase shook his head. "First you're going to tell me why you're helping me."

House looked annoyed.

Chase raised an eyebrow.

House sighed, rolled his eyes, and shook his head. "Why do you want to know?"

"Because it's making me nervous."

House regarded him for a moment, then replied, "You're an investment. I'd rather you not have a breakdown or die after I've known you for seven years."

Chase snorted, but allowed House to take one fo the sandwiches, looking uncomfortably away.

"I said that was why I was helping you. That has nothing to do with why I was going to go out to dinner with you, or why you're still sleeping in my apartment."

"Then... why?"

"Wow, there's a hard one. Why would someone chose to spend time with someone else? Hmm, I wonder why."

"Well normally I would say because they enjoy spending time with that person, but I'm guessing you have some more misanthropic reason in mind."

House looked at him.

Chase blinked. "That's... it? You're not somehow planning..."

"Planing what? What the hell would I be accomplishing by going to dinner with you?"

"I... don't know."

House snorted.

Chase looked at him for a bit. "You wanna do something after work tomorrow?"

House shrugged.

Chase rolled his eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just... don't make a big deal out of it, okay?"

"I'm not. I just like spending time with you too."

House seemed a bit confused by that statement.

Chase watched him for a while. "How about we get a replacement for the shirt I bled on?"

"Shopping? That's your idea of a man-date?"

Chase shrugged. "I owe you a shirt."

"..."

Chase raised an eyebrow. "If you don't have a dress shirt, we're not going anywhere nice for dinner."

"So?"

"So that includes that Japanese place you keep dolling over every time we pass it on the way back from the hospital."

House snorted. "I'm not going there with you."

Chase blinked, looking almost a little hurt. "Why not?"

"Because you can't use chopsticks and they don't have forks."

"Oh... well then that Venezuelan place in Trenton."

"..."

One work day later...

House sighed, leaning against a pillar, as Chase grabbed shirts he thought would fit.

The blond held up an eye-smarting, practically neon green shirt. "I think it's the same shade as your eyes."

House blinked for a moment. "Chase?"

"What?"

"That shirt is green."

Chase lowered the shirt. "Oh."

"You're colorblind?"

Chase shrugged, checking the tag on the shirt. "Yeah, I can't see yellow."

"And I thought you just had crappy taste."

Chase laughed a little, putting the shirt back on the rack, and checking the tag on another shirt, then holding it out. "This one's blue."

House sighed, and took it, reluctantly.

It was a nice shirt, and Chase was right this time, it was a nice shade of blue.

Chase made him get a white one, as well, because according to Chase it was more formal-- House didn't really know or care if it was or not.

* * *

House shrugged off his coat, and limped into the apartment, shoes squeaking, hair dripping wet.

He braced himself against the wall, and popped both sneakers off, sighing when he noticed the couch was empty. Chase had probably gone out to celebrate with foreman and Cameron-- or at least Foreman.

He limped into the bathroom, and was surprised to find Chase sitting on the edge of the tub, in the dark.

House turned on the light. "Okay, you sleeping in the bathroom when you're having nightmares is one thing, but just sitting there awake is kinda creepy."

Chase shook his head, mutely holding out a piece of paper in his left hand. House took it, frowning, and read it over.

Then slowly handed it back to Chase. "You failed the evaluation?"

Chase nodded, setting the paper next to him on the edge of the tub.

Chase had taken the post-injury evaluation of his hand function that morning, required before he was cleared for going back to working surgery, and then left early.

House had assumed he had passed, but...

House sighed. "Well, I gotta take a wiz."

Chase nodded, turning away.

House went, and then zipped up and put the toilet seat down, easing himself onto the seat, watching Chase sit, looking lost.

"Why?"

Chase looked at him, and his expression changed a little, though House couldn't read how. "Fingers are too weak from the nerve damage."

"So... not a thing PT would help with."

Chase nodded, giving a small smile, at the memory of House's joking "PT" sessions, that had been an excuse for both of them to laugh over Chase's failure to use the chopsticks that came with their Chinese food. It had been fun, since it had been something that had nothing to do with the hand injury.

House sighed. "I'm... sorry."

Chase looked at him, then looked away.

House watched him for a bit, noting his tight, rigid posture; downcast aquamarine eyes; and hands tight on the edge of the tub, the right very slightly less tight than the left.

He knew the blond was much more worked up than he was letting on, just like he had been that night, that had started all of this.

House tilted his head a little bit.

He didn't want Chase to be upset like this.

Chase had calmed down when...

Therefore...

"Do you want to tie me up again?"

Chase was silent, for a moment, before slowly raising his head, meeting House's eyes.

House shrugged, telling him he was serious.

Chase nodded, silently.

House got to his feet, and Chase followed him, to the bedroom, which was the obvious place to do it, if only because it had somewhere House would be comfortable for a while. The last time had been in the basement of the BSDM club Chase had been looking for a partner in, and House's leg hadn't done so well on the stiff mattress they'd used.

House frowned a little, bit, internally. Why... had Chase gone to a gay BDSM club?

He blinked a little, but shook his head, and climbed onto his bed as he reached it.

Chase had to look around for stuff, and House watched him, rather curious.

He was already calmer, knowing exactly what direction he was taking; what he was looking for, what would be done with it.

It was really quite interesting... and a little bit nice to watch, honestly.

Chase found a lot of stuff in House's closet, but not much of it was useful.

He eventually dug up several old ties, some of them so hideous they just had to be from Wilson, and a length of rope.

Chase used the rope to loop around the bedposts, hitched the ties to the two ends, and, rather carefully, tied the ties to House's wrists.

It was just a little bit looser than the last time, and Chase went and got another one of the ties, which made House raise his eyebrow a bit.

They had agreed last time that legs were off limits, for obvious reasons, so he wasn't sure...

But then it was being wrapped over his eyes, and tied, gently, just tight enough to keep it in place and tight over his nose.

He blinked a little, feeling his eyelashes brush against the cool, smooth silk.

He could hear and feel Chase moving around, but the blond wasn't saying anything. Even without watching, though, House could hear that Chase's breaths were calmer, less tight.

He grunted, a little, as something rested against his side, and something else touched his cheek.

"Chase? What..."

"Shh."

Last time, Chase had spent more time tying him up, and then they had sat there for a while, and then Chase had untied him. The whole thing hadn't taken more than half an hour.

"What..."

Chase's hand rested on his chest. "I said, shh. Relax. Trust me. You look like crap."

"The point of this is for you to calm down, not..."

"Not what?"

"Not for you to turn into Cameron."

Chase chuckled, his hand still resting on House's chest, then spoke, seriously. "You avoid physical contact, normally. Does it make you uncomfortable, should I not..."

House shook his head. "It's just... weird."

"Yeah, well, weird seems to be kind of our thing."

"Our?"

Chase rolled his eyes, though House couldn't see it. "Yes."

"I wasn't aware there was a we that existed to have an our."

"Yeah, well, you're stupid that way."

It was so blunt, that House had to laugh, even if he didn't agree with what Chase was saying.

He tilted his head a little. "Is there a we?"

"Well there's definitely a we, and there's technically been a we since you hired me, since that was a we working together, and then once you fired me there was a we that used to work together, and then more recently there's been a we that've been hanging out together, and living in the same apartment... so yeah, there's definitely a we. The only question is what the we is now."

House snorted.

He felt a little strange, as Chase ran a hand over his chest. "Chase..."

"You said you weren't uncomfortable."

"I'm not uncomfortable with you touching me, I am uncomfortable with you petting me..."

Chase laughed. "I'm not. I'm just smoothing out your shirt, it's all bunched up, it didn't look comfortable."

"Oh."

The room was silent for a while.

House actually found it... kind of nice, not that he would ever tell Chase that.

He could hear, though, Chase's breathing getting a little less steady, a little more stressed.

A hand pressed up against his own, right against his left, fingers against fingers, palm against palm.

Chase's fingers started to curl, and House curled his around the younger doctor's hand, as it curled into a loose fist.

There was a weight against his chest, and he knew Chase was resting his head there.

He closed his hand around Chase's slightly smaller one, and squeezed, gently.

"Chase--"

"Shut up."

House closed his mouth, and just let Chase sit there, head against his chest, hand in his hand, for a long time.

Eventually, he realized his shirt was getting wet.

House rubbed his thumb over Chase's hand, a little. "Calm down."

"You're the one that looks like crap."

House sighed a bit, and squeezed Chase's hand. "We're going to be late for dinner."

"What?"

"Dinner. Consumption of food in the evening."

"Why are we going to dinner?"

"To celebrate."

Chase's hand tightened slightly. "What..." he sounded hurt.

House rolled his eyes beneath the tie. "Your new job."

"House--"

"Unless you don't want to have your own fellowship team like I worked out with Cuddy in case this happened."

"I... House..."

Chase untied his hands, and House put his head forward, allowing Chase to get at the knot on the blindfold. "Where are we going?"

"Shintaku's."

Chase blinked a bit, as the blindfold fell away. "But... I thought..."

"What? That you fail at using chopsticks? You do. But I made the reservation like a month ago, as soon as you scheduled the evaluation."

Chase looked at him, for a little while, then got off the bed, and went to change into nice clothes.

House watched him, shook his head, and went to change clothes himself, absently rubbing his wrists.

When House came out of the bedroom, Chase was standing, ready, coat over his arms, which were folded in front of him.

"House?"

"What?"

"Thanks."

House opened his mouth to complain about the sappiness, but Chase shook his head. "I'm just telling you, thank you. That's all."

House slowly nodded, looking a little wary. "Foreman's gonna be jealous."

Chase nodded, smiling a bit.

House snorted, picking up his own coat and putting it on, as they headed out the door, into the rain.

By the time they had pulled up in front of the restaurant, Chase wasn't really sure what to think.

"Chase."

Chase looked at the older doctor, as House pulled into a parking space.

House was watching him, impassively.

"Yeah?"

"I fired you because I wanted you to figure out for yourself that you could do just fine on your own as a diagnostician."

House got out of the car.

Chase blinked for a moment, then slowly smiled, knowing that was as close to a complement as House was probably capable of giving.

He got out, and House limped awkwardly around a puddle, while Chase held the door..

They walked in, and House gave the hostess the name the reservation was under--House party"-- and the woman led them to a space in a corner with windows, overlooking a pond.

It was a small table, with two chairs, one in the corner, the other directly across from it.

House sat in the corner, so he could stretch his leg out past Chase's feet without tripping anyone.

Chase smiled, as he sat down.

He opened the menu, and blinked... it was... cheap?

But then he noticed that each thing was only two or three pieces.

He frowned, a bit confused, and looked at the older doctor.

House was watching him, an amused-- but not particularly condescending-- expression on his face.

"We just order a little bit at a time."

Chase nodded, slowly, unsure what most of the stuff was-- it was all labeled in Japanese.

House grinned. "How about I just order for both of us?"

Chase looked relieved. "That sounds good."

They sat for a bit, and House ordered in Japanese, and Chase stared at him.

House shrugged a little, at Chase's look. "I lived in Japan for a while when I was a fourteen."

Chase nodded, and looked out the window for a while, before looking back at his former boss. "Are..."

House looked at him, eyebrow raised.

"Are we on a date?" asked Chase, quietly.

House nodded, and looked back out the window.

Chase paused for a moment, before starting to smile slightly to himself.

Okay... this...

This was okay.

This might even be good.

The first few dishes came, and Chase failed at eating them, and House ended up turning his own chopsticks around and popping a piece of fish into Chase's mouth.

Chase smiled, as they walked into the apartment.

He had maybe had a little too much sake, and he was sort of leaning on the older doctor, which just seemed to make House smile.

Chase wasn't really drunk, just pleasantly buzzed, so he just undid his tie, and they sat down on the couch to watch tv, like they'd so often done before now.

This time, though, he leaned against House's side, and House watched him for a moment, before awkwardly putting an arm around his shoulders.

Chase smiled, and rested his head against House's chest, his ear right over House's heart.

* * *

Chase yawned, padding out into the livingroom-- he'd taken a nap in House's bed-- and joining House on the couch.

"Could you fill these out?"

He held out a thin stack of forms, and House sighed.

Chase's handwriting, while more legible than it had been before he'd hurt his hand, was something of a sore subject for the blond, since his letters had to be painstakingly formed, either with his left, non-dominate hand, or with his damaged right.

House took the forms, and started filling them out-- they were the hiring agreements for Chase's new fellows, which he had helped Chase pick over the last month or so.

"What's their job titles?"

"Same as your fellows, same as mine was."

"Wilson filled those out."

Chase rolled his eyes. "You're hopeless."

House snorted. "Like you care."

Chase shrugged, watching as House filled out the spaces with the correct title anyway. "You wanna celebrate?"

House chuckled. "So you'll be hungover on your first day?"

Chase rolled his eyes. "I didn't say get drunk, I said celebrate. We could go bowling, and you could get to be the better one."

House snorted. "I doubt it."

Chase grinned. "So do I."

But House still went and got his bowling stuff, and Chase did as well, and they drove out to the bowling alley and rented a lane.

* * *

House looked up, as the door to his office opened. "How--"

But it was Wilson, not Chase.

And the oncologist looked upset.

House blinked-- Wilson had barely spoken to him in the last few weeks, having been too caught up with Amber.

To be fair, he supposed he himself was pretty caught up with Chase, and hadn't been making much of an effort when Wilson clearly wanted to spend his time with Amber more than he wanted to spend it with House.

"Hey. I..."

Wilson looked down, for a moment, then looked back up, rubbing the back of his neck. "I know I've been kind of ignoring you recently, and I know this is really... I..."

House rolled his eyes. "She kicked you to the curb."

Wilson flushed. "No... just... asked me to stay somewhere else for a little while..."

"What did you do?"

Wilson flushed again, and House shook his head. "You idiot."

Wilson shook his head. "I didn't cheat."

"But you did do something stupid."

"I... yes."

House sighed. "I'll have to check if it's okay."

Wilson blinked. "Check... what?"

House looked at him, a bit incredulously. "Wow. You really have been ignoring me."

Wilson frowned. "You don't seem that upset by it..."

House shook his head. "Chase has been living on my couch since he hurt his hand."

Wilson looked away. "Oh..."

"We can just share the bed, though."

Wilson seemed a bit confused by that. "...What?"

"Not you," said House, rolling his eyes, and picking up the phone to dial, "Chase."

"Um... you... what?"

House stared for a moment, then shook his head. "Last two months. Man-dates turned into actual dates. You seriously haven't noticed this?"

Wilson shook his head, slowly. "I didn't know you were..."

"Gay?"

"Well, yeah."

"I'm not. Not as a general rule. Now do you want me to see if it's okay, or what?"

"Um, sure. Yeah, if you don't mind."

House nodded, and dialed Chase's number, which was actually still his third speed dial because he had never gotten around to changing it after firing the blond, but he had a strange sort of attachment to dialing the familiar set of numbers.

* * *

Wilson opened his eyes.

He had been trying to go to sleep for the past hour, but the noises from the bedroom were keeping him awake.

They weren't anything particularly weird, just soft voices, and an occasional laugh, or sigh, or little sound of comfort.

But it was still enough to keep him up, if only because the sounds reminded him of what he wasn't doing just thanks to leaving dinner early to deal with Bonnie's "emergency", which had turned out to consist of Hector refusing to eat a new kind of food.

He heard a slightly louder sound, and then a small laugh of Chase's, and closed his eyes, biting his lip in the dark.

Chase smiled, resting his head against House's chest, as they laid in House's bed together.

It wasn't as if he hadn't slept here before, taken a nap in the bed; or slept beside House before, on the couch, or at the hospital, when he'd lost a patient.

And it wasn't as if they hadn't cuddled before; sat on the couch long after a movie or TV show had ended, and just enjoyed each other's company and warmth.

But this was the first time they've actually slept in the bedroom in their apartment, together.

It's not weird, it's perfectly comfortable, but that comfort is a bit of a revelation.

Not that they're comfortable, but that they have reached the point where sleeping together like this isn't even a big deal.

Chase blinked, as House's hand rested on his back, rubbing gently through the shirt.

Chase smiled, and spoke what they were both thinking. "No more sleeping on the couch."

House nodded, and absently ran his fingers through Chase's hair.

Chase giggled.

"...What was that?"

Chase raised his head off the older diagnostician's chest, smiling. "I'm ticklish."

House snorted. "What are you, a girl?"

Chase just ignored him, and rested his head back down.

House watched him for a little while, amused, before closing his eyes, and letting himself drift off, his hand resting on Chase's back.

* * *

Chase opened his eyes.

He was no longer cuddled up with his partner, he was lying on the center of the bed, arm stretched out towards House's side.

Chase raised his head, frowning.

The blankets were kicked off, and House was way over on the edge, curled with his back to the younger doctor.

Chase could actually smell the pain-sweat coming off the older man.

He scooted over, gently sliding a hand around House's waist, burring his face between the older diagnostician's shoulder blades. "Hey."

A shaking hand covered his, and he closed his eyes, in silent sympathy for the pain House was in.

House shuddered, and Chase squeezed, bracing him, as House's hand tightened hard over his own.

"Are you okay?" asked Chase, quietly.

"Perfect," spat House, bitterly.

Chase nodded. "I know. But other than that."

A bitter chuckle came from the older man, and then, after pushing out a short breath through his nostrils, House answered, quietly, "It's bad."

Chase squeezed again, reassuringly. "I'm--"

"Don't say it."

"...I wasn't going to say sorry, I was going to say I'm going to get you some thing to dr--"

House's hand suddenly tightened, almost convulsively, on Chase's.

"House?"

"NNNG..."

House had buried his face in the mattress, and his whole body was clenching, he was panting raggedly into the sheets.

Chase slipped his hand out from House's, climbed off the bed, and moved around to crouch by House's front, gripping his friend and partner's hands, until House's body relaxed, the spasm passing. "I'll get you something to drink?"

House nodded tiredly, face still buried in the sheets, too tired to bother turning his head.

Chase gently touched the backs of his fingers to House's cheek, then walked out, giving the older man the privacy they both knew he needed. House was managing to be civil and even something approaching loving, but Chase knew it was better not to push that when House was in pain.

While he was filling a glass of water from the sink, Wilson walked in, sleepy and bed-headed, making a beeline to the coffee-maker.

Chase smiled at him. "Sleep well?"

Wilson blinked sleepily at him, then nodded, yawning. "Mmm. Sleep better on House's couch then I do at home."

Chase chuckled, turning off the water and heading back towards the bedroom.

"Is House up yet?"

Chase shook his head, turning back to Wilson. "No. And, um, don't expect him to be for a while, he's having a bad day."

Wilson nodded, unhappily. "Do you want me to come with you?"

Chase shook his head. "No... he'll probably feel better without a lot of people watching him."

Wilson nodded, going back to making coffee.

* * *

When Chase came in, House had turned his head a little, so his cheek was resting on a slightly damp patch of covers.

Chase knew it wasn't drool, but didn't say anything, just joined him on the bed.

He was mostly asleep, and barely stirred when Chase spooned up against him.

"Chase..." mumbled House, quietly.

"Yeah?"

"Can you... just..."

"Yeah. I'm not going anywhere."

Chase closed his eyes, burying his face in the back of House's neck.

A few hours later, Wilson cracked the door, quietly, putting his eye up to the space between the door and the doorframe.

House was lying curled, shirt soaked with sweat, bad leg bent, good one straight.

Chase was sitting beside him, rubbing his hand slowly up and down the older doctor's back, as it rose and fell too rapidly for Wilson's liking.

Wilson knocked quietly. "Hey."

Chase looked up, nodding, as Wilson pushed the door open a little.

"I made lunch... um..."

Chase nodded again, looking at House. "You up for some food?"

House nodded, stiffly moving himself towards the edge of the bed.

He was slow, careful, and stiff, getting to the living room, but he did seem to be able to walk, which relieved both the younger doctors.

By the time he was seated on the couch, his forehead was sheened with sweat, and his face was markedly pale.

But he still had the energy to glare at both of them, and mutter something about not remembering having signed up to be a side-show attraction.

Chase helped Wilson bring out the food--Reuben sandwiches that looked and smelled delicious, with several cold and put aside, with no dressing.

Chase made sure House got one of the cold ones, and they sat on the couch, and House let Chase and Wilson pick a movie, admitting that he would probably sleep through most of it.

The sandwiches were delicious, and Chase ate three of them, House ate only one, seeming uncomfortable and maybe a bit nauseous.

It was a little awkward, at first, the three of them sitting there, but by the time House was dozing off against Chase's side, the atmosphere had become comfortable, and even rather companionable.

House did indeed sleep through most of the movie, and Chase and Wilson ended up watching him more than they watched the TV, both worried, and sharing that worry with each other.

Wilson started to get ready to leave, after the movie ended, but Chase stopped him, and explained what he and the sleeping diagnostician had decided last night, that Wilson was welcome anytime, and that the couch was now pretty much open for guests.

Wilson just sort of stood there, halfway to the door, and ducked his head down.

Chase was rather alarmed, when he realized Wilson was crying.

"Hey... sit down, okay?"

Wilson nodded, walking towards the armchair and sitting down on it.

Chase watched him for a while, then seated himself on the floor next to the chair. "Amber?"

Wilson nodded, wiping his face on his sleeve. "Sorry. It just... I'm sorry."

"It's just we're happy and you miss that."

Wilson nodded again.

"I understand. But... I think House's particular brand of honesty is probably the best approach here, but I'm not going to use it if you don't want to hear stuff you've been avoiding."

Wilson shook his head. "Just... go ahead."

Chase nodded. "She's over ten years younger than you, she's a cuthroat bitch; you've got a stressful job, you're an enabler, and a serial philanderer. But you also love each other, work very well together, and have managed to get through your differences for over a year now. You have to decide, together, whether you love each other enough to continue to overlook those differences. And you're not going to figure that out by not talking to each other."

Wilson didn't speak, but nodded, slowly, and then started to cry again.

Eventually, Wilson did leave, to go and talk to Amber.

House had gone back to bed by that point, and as Wilson's car pulled away, Chase padded into the bedroom, to find his lover curled, breathing rapidly and unevenly, quite a bit worked up.

Chase knelt on the bed, and rubbed his back, and talked softly to him, but it didn't seem to help.

Finally, House muttered something, and Chase blinked.

"Really?"

House nodded. "Dark... it's like the bathroom for you."

Chase understood, and went and got House's old ties, not bothering with House's wrists, that time, but just gently tying one tie around the older diagnostician's head, covering his eyes.

The effect wasn't immediate, but Chase did start to see a gradual change in House's breathing, a little bit of the stress leaving his face.

Chase knelt over the older doctor's waist, knees on either side of House's hips, and tangled his fingers with House's, pressing the clasped pairs of hands up against the padded headboard.

He gently kissed House's forehead, then rested his own against House's, closing his eyes.

He could feel, in House's body, as they stayed there like that together, the tension becoming less.

House was still in pain, but he was regaining control over himself, calming down, and taking comfort in Chase's presence and the contact with the younger doctor.

Chase moved his head, nuzzling against House's face, gently, nudging his nose against House's cheek, kissing House's jaw, pressing his cheek against House's temple, kissing House's forehead again.

House started to reciprocate, and Chase let go of his hands, as they moved down, one curving around Chase's waist, the other sliding over Chase's chest, smoothing down his shirt.

Chase kissed him, and House returned the kiss, tangling his hand in Chase's hair.

Chase slid his hands under House's shirt, starting to pull it off, and House did the same with Chase's, only a little more clumsily, because he couldn't see what he was doing.

Chase traced his hands over House's back, and House's traced over his.

They could feel each other growing hard, and Chase whispered, "Are you sure?"

"Are you?" asked House, voice somehow both husky and soft.

Chase nodded against House's cheek, and House's hands traced down to find his waistband, and the zipper on his pants.

Chase started to do the same, but House suddenly rolled away, breaking the contact, leaving Chase still in his pants.

Chase knew what the problem was, knew that after all these months, House was still, and probably always would be, scared of Chase being disgusted by his leg.

It was as deeply seated a fear as Chase's need to know House trusted him, and Chase respected that immensely.

He gently took House's hands, and pressed a tie into them, gently moving House's hands, to tie it around his own head.

House did, slowly, hesitantly, and Chase smiled against his cheek, when the knot was finished.

He moved his hands down House's chest, and House let him unzip the fly, sliding his own hand over Chase's hips, down the curve off his behind, sliding off the khaki pants that House hadn't mentioned looked stupid with Chase's yellow shirt.

House arched his hips, allowing Chase to do the same, and their feet tangled together, as they kicked their pants and underwear off their ankles.

Chase buried his face in House's neck, and House's hand slid around his waist, and they started to move, a little, slowly.

House turned his head, and Chase responded, kissing, first gently, chastely, then more intensely, sucking and biting.

House's hands were everywhere, his own hands were sliding over his lover's body, finding smooth skin and muscled shoulders, the right more defined than the left.

House's hand slid down, and Chase's followed suit, and they closed their eyes despite the blindfolds, bodies shuddering naked against each other, hips arching, and fingers digging in to each other's flesh.

* * *

House opened his eyes.

It was dark, his eyelashes brushed against cloth.

His leg was throbbing, dully.

There was warmth, all over his chest, a warm, heavy weight resting on most of his body.

He smiled a little, and rested his hand on the back of Chase's head, feeling the few strands of blond hair caught in the knot on the back of the blindfold.

"Mmm...House?" murmured Chase, quietly, and House smiled again, and murmured back, "Yeah."

Chase moved his head, kissing the curve of House's neck, gently.

House could feel Chase's lips smile against his skin.

"When I was a kid," he murmured, quietly, "we lived in India. My dad would get mad at me. I'd hide in the shed behind the barracks. It was dark... and safe. My dad never found me when I hid there."

Chase tangled his fingers--his right hand--in the fingers of House's left, squeezing gently.

House squeezed in return, just a little more tightly.

Chase smiled, and raised himself up a little, gently kissing his way up House's jaw, kissing between his eyes, through the blindfold, the body-warmed silk smooth but textured against his lips.

"House," he murmured, quietly.

"Yeah?" asked House, just as softly.

"I... I really love you."

"Yeah."

House was silent for a moment, then moved unexpectedly, letting go of Chase's hand and squeezing the younger man close against him, speaking with a choked, tear-roughened voice. "I love you too."

Chase pulled the blindfold off himself, and saw the wet patches on the tie over House's eyes.

He gently pushed the tie back, and found House watching him, eyes rimmed with red, and holding as much emotion as they were missing color in Chase's sight.

He didn't ask why House was crying.

Just gently kissed his forehead, and rested his lips there, closing his eyes, returning the world to darkness.

* * *

Wilson sighed, wearily entering his friend's apartment.

House was on the couch, reading, apparently feeling better.

"Hey. Chase said you'd gone to talk to Amber."

Wilson nodded, nudging House's feet with his knee.

House moved them, sitting up, so Wilson could join him on the couch.

He seemed expectant, which surprised Wilson a little.   
He actually wanted to know how it had gone.

"She... said she doesn't want to take the risk of me cheating on her. She'd rather be lonely than lose trust in me like that."

House looked at him, for a moment, then spoke. "That's bullshit. If she thinks you cheating, which she knows isn't that unlikely to happen, is breaking her trust, then she's trusting you the wrong way. If she actually trusted you, she would trust that even if you screwed up, got caught up with someone else for a night, that you love her first."

And with that, the older doctor got up, and limped out to the kitchen.

Wilson blinked, for a moment, then followed him. "Since when are you an expert on trust?"

House turned around from spreading peanut butter on some bread. "You know the answer to that, you just want me to say I'm happy so you can feel worse about yourself. Well, fine, if you want to wallow, I'd be delighted to say that I'm as happy as a pig in poop."

Wilson stared at him.

"...I... don't even know what that was supposed to do, House."

House looked at him, shrugging. "You feel like shit, and you think you should feel like shit, because your girlfriend just dumped you and it might have been kinda your fault. So you're going to compare your situation to mine, and make yourself feel miserable by thinking about the fact that I'm actually happy. I could resent that, because given how much of the time you've been happy and I've been miserable, I think you should be at least a little glad for me, but I'm not going to."

Wilson blinked at him for a bit, then slowly shook his head. "Did you have sex?"

House nodded, and flashed him a grin.

Wilson shook his head, and seated himself at the island, "I don't resent you, House."

"Yes you do."

Wilson shook his head again, and rested his chin on his arm, closing his eyes in misery.

He listened to House putter around for a bit, then leave.

 

"It's always you that's been able to find happiness, and it's always him that's been stuck being miserable. It's reversed, and you resent that, and are a little scared by it, because you know that you've always left him to himself, and you're scared he's going to do that as well."

"He... has every right to do that," said Wilson, sitting up, and looking over at Chase, who had entered the kitchen.

"I know. He knows. But he's not going to."

'Why wouldn't he?"

"That's pretty simple. Because he's a better person than you are, at least in some ways, this being one of them."

He set something down on the table; a pair of Wilson's bowling shoes that House had borrowed a few years back, and never returned.

"Come on. We're going bowling. You're coming with us."

Wilson slowly took the shoes, and Chase nodded in apparent satisfaction. "Good. There's the first step, start moving forward. That House is definitely gonna make a project out of helping you with. But... the second step? Leaving the past behind you? That you have to start working towards yourself."

Chase smiled a little, to himself. "And it's not gonna be easy. Some pasts just won't stay in the past. But you've just got to do your best, okay?"

Wilson looked down at the shoes, then up at Chase. "Why...?"

"Because you're House's friend, and he's worried for you, even if he'll never say it. And because I've definitely been where you are. Now come on, House is probably waiting."

Wilson nodded, following Chase out to the living room.

* * *

Wilson blinked, as he sat in the back seat, and noticed that both house's hands on the wheel, and Chase's hand on the armrest were strangely tight and tense.

He didn't say anything, not wanting to bring up something they were arguing about.

When they hit a red light, he found out what was going on, without having to ask.

Without even looking, they both gripped each others hand.

Wilson smiled, just a little, sadly. As strange as it was, he really should listen to what they were saying to him.

Chase was right, he supposed.

There were things House really did understand better than he did, about people, love, and especially trust.

He smiled, a little, as they pulled into the handicapped space in front of the bowling alley.

And Chase was definitely right about moving forward.

* * *

House yawned a bit, climbing into bed next to the younger diagnostician. The covers were clean, and warm from Chase's body heat, as he laid down right up against Chase, his hip pressed, warm and bony, against Chase's.

Chase stirred a little, and turned onto his side, so his head was resting on House's chest, his ear pressed right over House's heart, soft blond hair brushing against House's bare skin.

House rested his hand on Chase's back, smiling a little, running his hand back and forth over the t-shirt, feeling it move slowly over Chase's muscled back, smooth skin.

* * *

Chase sighed, as he stood next to House, in the doorway of hell.

"I supposed we should go in," he muttered, bumping his shoulder a little against House's.

House leaned into him, almost imperceptibly, "We have to do it sometime."

They both sighed, and entered the clinic lobby.

House took a breath, and then pushed open the door to the exam room, finding a woman and a little boy. The boy was sporting bruises on his face and wrists, and from the long sleeves the kid was sporting in the middle of June, probably on his arms as well.

"What happened?"

The kid looked at the floor, the mom stood, her clothes, which were definitely not brand new, though weren't worn out either, falling loosely on her frame. "He's seeing double."

House nodded, slowly, pulling up a stool, and sitting down on it. "How long since this started?"

"He fell down at school."

House looked at the mom, and nodded, slowly. "Of course."

He looked at the kid. "Hey, buddy. What's your name?"

"Uh, Brandon," murmured the boy, quietly.

House nodded. "What happened?"

"I fell."

House nodded again. "Of course you did. I'm going to have to get you an MRI, okay?"

The kid looked at his mom, who looked at House, worriedly. "What's that?"

"I need to know if the double vision is from the massive fist-shaped swelling around your kid's eye, or from the multiple concussions he's probably had over the years."

She dropped her eyes, and House sighed, reaching to lift the kid down off the table. "It's okay."

She nodded, slowly.

"I'll schedule the MRI for tomorrow, there should be an empty slot--"

"I can't come in tomorrow."

House looked at her.

She looked exhausted, and scared.

He sighed.

"Let's just go see if we can get a slot right now."

She nodded, gripping her son's arm.

House sighed, watching her walk out, and the boy limp a little, as they walked.

He called up radiology as they walked, and yelled at the person on the other end of the line until they admitted that, yeah, there would be a half hour during which he could sneak someone into the MRI.

The double vision ended up being because of the swelling around the kid's eye.

House prescribed an icepack and a visit to an optometrist that he knew they wouldn't follow up on.

He watched them go, then suddenly stepped forward. "Wait."

They stopped, and the woman and the little boy turned around.

He jerked his head at an empty room. "There's one more thing I forgot to do."

He picked up the kid's file, and a phone from the wall of the room, and dialed. "This is Dr. Gregory House at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. I need to speak with a social worker about a confirmed case of child abuse."

The woman stood, but House blocked her path, and looked past her at her kid.

She turned around, slowly, and looked at the boy, bruised and clearly in pain, dark clothing standing out on the white hospital bed.

Then she looked back at him, silently telling him to make the call.

* * *

Chase blinked, as House thumped aggressively down in his recliner, in the second diagnostics office.

Chase's ducklings fled, and House watched them go, impassively, before looking at Chase with weariness in his eyes.

Chase stood. "What's up?"

House shook his head. "Crappy case."

Chase nodded, sitting back down in his chair. "You okay?"

House nodded, bringing his hand up, and rubbing his face tiredly, yawning a bit once he lowered his hand. "You wanna go to dinner?"

Chase nodded. "Sure."

House nodded again to himself, and then closed his eyes.

Chase watched him for a while, but he didn't seem to be about to go anywhere. "Do you mind if I get back to work?"

But, he realized... House was already asleep.

Chase smiled a little, getting to his feet, pulling off his labcoat, and gently laying it over the older doctor's lap. "Okay, then. Have a good rest."

* * *

Chase smiled, as he sat down at the table across from House.

The older diagnostician was still in a kind of strange mood, and Chase watched him, while they waited for the menus.

He looked tired, and worn out, lines just a tiny bit deeper around his eyes and mouth than was usual; circles under his eyes just a little bit darker.

Chase reached across the table, and gripped House's hand, as it reached for the water glass. "What's up?"

House looked at him, for a moment, and Chase released his wrist.

House picked up his cup, and put it to his lips, but didn't drink, just sat there for a bit, lips pressed against the cool glass of the cup.

Finally, he swallowed a few gulps of water, and set the glass down. "Do you wanna have kids?"

Chase stopped, and tilted his head a little. "Are... you asking because you think I do, or because you think I don't? Because you do, or because you don't?"

House shrugged a bit. "Because I think you might, and because I don't know if I do or not."

Chase smiled. "I'd rather have kids than not. But both of us are pretty screwed up people, and I'm not sure if we'd do a good job. And... I'd rather be childless with you than have a child with anyone else."

House looked away, his fingers running over the cool glass ridges on his water cup.

Chase laid his hand over House's wrists, stilling the fidgeting fingers, cooling the frantic movement. "Stop. It's a big thing to talk about. It's okay to not feel comfortable."

House looked back at him, and then slowly nodded. "I guess."

Chase smiled, gently squeezing House's wrists, warm beneath his hand. "Yeah. Now here's an easier question: do you wanna share an appetizer?"

House grinned a little, and opened his menu to look at the list.

They ate, and ordered desert and coffee; Chase ordered crême brulé, House ordered chocolate cake.

Chase grinned, as he stole a fork-full of House's cake. House retaliated by scooping up some of Chase's pudding, then looking down at his plate, swirling his fork through the red berry topping.

He looked up, abruptly, as Chase's hand grabbed his arm.

The younger diagnostician was holding his throat, in a universal instinctive gesture of "I'm choking."

House shoot to his feet. "Stand up."

Chase shook his head, fumbling at his briefcase, fingers slipping.

The... topping.

Strawberries.

House knelt, digging through Chase's bag until he found an epi pen, and stabbing it into Chase's leg.

Chase gasped, and House wrapped his arms around the younger doctor, lifting him off his chair and holding him up, as his airway opened.

Someone had called 911, House dimly registered them talking, and snapped at them to tell the operator it was anaphylactic shock, epi had been administered, and to have the ambulance take them to Princeton-Plainsboro.

Chase was breathing, sitting on the floor, chin resting on House's shoulder, holding onto the older doctor tightly.

House would have been holding just as tightly, but it would have further impaired Chase's ability to breathe.

The younger diagnostician was crying a little, and shaking from adrenaline and the shot. House rubbed his back, as he took huge wheezing gasps. Chase's hands tangled in House's shirt, and he coughed, pressing his face into the older doctor's shoulder.

"Can you breathe okay?"

Chase shook his head, and wheezed into the older doctor's shirt. "House..."

"It's okay."

Chase shook his head, rasping. "It...hurts."

House buried his hand in Chase's hair. "Shhh."

They heard sirens in the distance, as Chase's grip started to weaken.

House laid him flat, measuring his respirations with a hand on the younger doctor's chest.

Chase's eyes were closed.

The doors opened, and paramedics came in, pulling a gurney.

Chase turned his head a little, trying to escape the breeze and pressure on his face.

It moved with his head, and he frowned a little, beneath it.

He could hear beeping, to the left of his head, and dim voices ahead, muffled as if through a door.

He opened his eyes.

Plain foamboard ceiling met his eyes, and florescent lights.

He turned his head, hearing a slight sound to his left.

A head, with slightly thinning gray-brown hair was resting on the bed, on an elbow, the hand of the arm it was resting on curled loosely in the sheets.

Chase smiled a little, sitting up, and scooting up against the raised head of the stiff hospital bed, gently wrapping his hand around House's unconscious one.

The older diagnostician stirred a little, raising his head, and wiping sleepily at the small trail of drool on his chin. "Hnnn?"

Chase squeezed his hand, his throat feeling much too sore and swollen to attempt speech--he was grateful for the oxygen mask over his face.

House blinked at him, then stood, and immediately pressed his lips to Chase's forehead, gently brushing his bangs out of the way.

Chase smiled beneath the oxygen mask, gripping House's head with both hands, and resting his forehead against the older doctor's own.

"Are you okay?"

Chase nodded, sliding a hand through House's hair, tangling his fingers in the back of it, sliding his other hand down to wrap his arm around House's back, holding the older man close against himself.

House was warm, his hair thin but still definitely there, curling around Chase's fingers, House's shirt bunching up beneath his palm, pressing against the line of scar tissue stretching from thumb to wrist, and the second line across the pads of his fingers between the first and second knuckles.

House's hands curled in the thin hospital robe, he could feel the older doctor's fingernails lightly scraping through the fabric, as House clenched his fingers in the cloth, putting his emotions into the gesture, rather than into his embrace of the younger doctor.

Chase slowly let go, and House followed suit, gently easing his partner down to the bed once more.   
The sheets had cooled beneath his back; they had hugged for over ten minutes.

House sighed, awkwardly resting a hand on Chase's arm. "I... have to pee."

Chase smiled at him, his breath steaming up the inside of the oxygen mask as he chuckled a little.

 

Chase sighed, pushing the door open. "You know, you could have told me you went home early... I looked all over for....you..."

He stopped, blinking.

The apartment was dark, except for the fire crackling in the hardly-used fireplace.

Chase walked in, slowly, setting his briefcase on the ground. "House?"

The apartment was silent, except for the sounds of the fire.

He walked into the kitchen, found it empty and clean.

But...he could smell something; something really delicious.

He walked back into the living room, and stood there for a moment, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness.

Then he smiled, a little, noticing the figure at the piano.

He walked over, and joined House at the bench, sitting beside him. "What's all this?"

House reached behind himself, and turned on the light.

He held a finger to Chase's lips, stopping the blond from commenting on the meal sitting on the coffee table. "Shh. Let me do this."

Chase looked at him, and realized that this was all some sort of bizarre apology for the anaphylaxis--as though that were House's fault.

"House, I--"

"I know you don't think it's my fault, but I can't not be angry at myself for not thinking. So... just let me do this, okay?"

Chase paused for a moment, then nodded, slowly. "Okay."

House turned the lights back off.

Then started to play.

Chase leaned against him, as the music flowed, and the fire crackled.

It was... really nice.

He smiled, closing his eyes, and let himself get lost in the warmth and music and soft light through his eyelids.

House finished the song, and then got up. "Let's eat... and I promise, no strawberries."

Chase laughed, quietly, and joined him on the couch--the food was still hot. And... not takeout.

House had cooked.

He saw, though, as House moved from the piano to the couch, that the older doctor was limping noticeably more than usual, probably from standing to make the food.

* * *

Wilson yawned, pushing open the door. He smiled a little, and closed the door more quietly than he had opened it. The other two inhabitants of the apartment were lying on the couch, Chase behind House, spooned up against each other. House looked a little distressed, but only in that he had pain on his face. Chase looked utterly peaceful, arm wrapped around House's waist.

Wilson decided he could probably wait to take a nap. He walked into the kitchen, and opened the fridge, intending to grab a beer, but blinked, upon seeing a plate of food literally with his name on it.

 

* * *

House gritted his teeth, as he stood across from the moron holding a hand over their eye.

The man on the table was beet red, sweaty from the pain and instinctual panic caused by the damage to his eye.

His fiancée was standing by the side of the table, holding his arm. "Just tell him, honey. What happened to it?"

The man looked at his soon-to-be wife, then down.

House shifted, awkwardly--there wasn't a stool in this exam room, and his leg wasn't happy about that fact. "Did you scratch it, hit it, or puncture it?"

"Scratch," grunts the man.

"Was it metal? You'll have to get a tetanus booster..."

"No... paper."

House blinked a bit. "How did you scratch yourself with paper?"

"Uh... my bachelor party...." he muttered, finally. "Lenny... hired this girl... was trying to give her a tip..."

House paged an opthamologist, before leaving the room as quickly as possible.

Chase was waiting outside the room for him, and smiled when he came out. "You wanna catch lunch?"

"I think I just wanna lie down... Cuddy's got me doing clinic all day."

Chase touched the older diagnosticians' elbow briefly. "Are you alright?"

"Just not feelin' so hot."

"Leg still bothering you?"

House nodded.

Chase sighted a bit. "I gotta eat, but..."

House nodded again. "Yeah, I'll see you later."

House watched the younger diagnostician walk away, then leaned against the wall behind himself, closing his eyes. He felt utterly sapped.

After a while, he straightened and lipmed towards the elevator to take a nap in the on-call room.

* * *

"House."

"House?"

"House..."

He started awake, smacking his head on the top bunk.

Cuddy was standing there, watching him impatiently.

"What?"

She put her hands on her hips. "Lunch break's over."

He grunted, sat up, and awkwardly lifted his bad leg off the cot with both hands.

Cuddy watched him, a little worried. "Are you all right?"

"My leg hurts. Not exactly news."

"Have you talked to Wilson?"

"About what? I stood for too long. It hurts. It happens. There's nothing to talk about. Really--I'm not even lying, it's not a big deal."

Cuddy nodded. "Okay... then get back to doing clinic."

House snorted, getting to his feet and limping out of the room.

 

House sighed, sitting on a stool in front of his patient.

The man's posture was awkward and painful and very forward.

"What is it?"

The man turned beet red. "What is what?"

"Whatever you have up your ass."

"Uh...oh."

"Well?"

"I didn't put them up there."

"They teleported into your ass... and 'they'?"

"Uh, no. And, yeah..."

"What are they?"

"Barbie heads. I swallowed them. They won't come out."

"...Why?"

"I think I have an STD."

House sighed, getting off his stool to get swabs and gloves.

As he rested his cane against the wall to put on the gloves, he spilled a little where the floor was wet from being mopped, and his bad leg buckled beneath him.

He growled at the patient when they started to get up to help him. "I'm fine. Floor's wet."

He got to his feet, hiding a wince in turning to get a new set of gloves. This wasn't going to be a good day.

* * *

Chase sighed a bit, waiting for his partner to come out of the clinic.

The door opened, and House limped out, tiredly, moving stiffly, awkwardly, and slowly.

Chase joined him, walking beside the older doctor. "Takeout?"

House nodded, mutely, jaw set in a hard line--he really just wanted to get home.

Chase walked close beside him, on the way out, and gently rested a hand against the small of his back, as soon as they were through the doors of the hospital, murmuring quietly to his partner, "Are you all right?"

House nodded, tiredly, leaning briefly against Chase's shoulder. "Yeah. Just... feel crappy."

Chase gently squeezed House's hand, then let go. "Let's just go straight home. I'm pretty tired too."

House nodded, mutely, jaw set.

Chase frowned, and opened the car door for the older doctor, offering him a steadying hand as he climbed into the car.

House took it, to Chase's surprise and worry.

He didn't say anything, though, just waited until House was settled, and closed the door.

It was cold out, windy, and Chase knew that couldn't be helping.

He turned on the heat as soon as they were inside the car, not that it would come on right away.

"Chase."

"Hmm?"

"I'm all right."

"I know. I know you're perfectly fine."

House snorted, quietly, and looked away out the window.

Chase reached over, squeezing his arm, gently, then letting go.

House let him know, with a small, quiet look, that he was doing the right thing; giving compassion and sympathy in a way that House could accept.

They reached their apartment, and Chase got out, walking around to the passenger side.

House had already opened the door, and was struggling his way out of the car, pulling himself up by the roof and the headrest of his seat.

Chase went up the steps and unlocked the door, pointedly not turning around until he heard his name.

He turned, and then hurried to the older diagnostician's side.

House was hot and sweaty to the touch, his breathing labored and rapid, as he wrapped shaking fingers around the younger man's shoulder, steadying himself.

Chase watched him, concerned, and gently wrapped an arm around his waist, more to monitor his lover's condition than to support him with aid he knew would not be accepted.

But it was accepted. House leaned against him, hard, and Chase, not expecting the weight, staggered a bit.

They made it up the few steps, barely, and House let go as soon as they reached the landing, leaning instead against the wall to the left of the door.

Chase opened the door, but House didn't seem to notice, lost in a haze of pain and exhaustion.

Chase knew this wasn't all the pain, that House was simply worn out, and would be rejecting even Chase's gentle touches, if he were not simply too exhausted by the worsening of the pain in the last week to care.

Chase touched his shoulder, and House stirred, looking at him with half-lidded eyes.

"Hey," said Chase, gently, smiling a little reassuringly. "Let's get inside, okay?"

House nodded, straightening away from the wall, taking a step, and then crumpling to the cold concrete step.

Chase caught him, mostly, though doing so caused himself to fall as well.

House's body was shaking in Chase's grip, not with pain but with utter, frank exhaustion.

Chase wrapped his arms around the older doctor's shivering body, hugging him tightly, as he tried to sit. "Shhh. Stop. Just... stop. Please."

House did, with a shuddery sigh, allowing himself to rest against Chase, body sinking into the contours of the younger doctor's form.

"All right?"

House nodded, tiredly, allowing his eyes to sink closed.   
Chase eventually got the mostly-sleeping doctor to bed, and curled up with him, as he struggled to find the restful sleep he needed.

It seemed to remain elusive, however, as it had for the last few days, coming only in fits and spurts, the pain too distracting to allow for the peace the older man so desperately needed.

House was getting agitated, and Chase knew that wasn't helpful, that the more worked up House was, the less likely it would be that he could find sleep and rest and peace.

Chase picked a book at random, from the shelves beside the bed, and settled in beside the older man, prepared to wait it out until House was able to rest.

He read for a while, but the bed did not stop twitching with the movement of the distressed man, nor did the air cease carrying the slight groans of pain that House did not quite manage to suppress.

Chase stopped, at a particular page, and looked between the book and the pained man lying beside him.

He got to his feet, setting the book down, and went to the hall closet, lifting the coat he kept it under.

House had his eyes closed, when Chase entered the room again, lying curled on his left side, hand tight over his bad thigh, whole body a collection of tense angles and lines.

Chase sat on the corner of the bed, half facing the older doctor, watching him for the reaction he hoped he would get.

House's eyes opened the moment the bow drew against the strings, turning his head to stare at Chase.

Chase smiled a him, Aclose your eyes, alright? Just relax."

House glared, stubbornly. "Why'd you hide that you play violin? I mean not mentioning it is one thing, but you've obviously been hiding it somewhere."

Chase smiled a little, gently. "I've heard you play piano."

"So?"

"So, I didn't feel like competing. I never really played in front of anyone, anyway, and messing up my hand made it harder to play."

House shook his head, but finally did close his eyes.

Chase smiled a little to himself, glad House was allowing him to do this, and touched the bow to the strings again, playing a little bit to get into it, then starting what he hoped would be long and smooth enough to get House to relax.

He could see, as he played, that it was hard for House to not open his eyes, not comment.

He figured he was doing something wrong, but didn't think about it, just let himself get sucked into the music and the instrument, closing his own eyes.

When he opened them, House was watching him, a strange look on his face.

Chase glared, a bit embarrassed. "I said keep your eyes shut. And like I said, I'm not competing with you. No comments about my playing, alright?"

House just blinked at him once, and murmured, "That was amazing, Chase."

Chase blinked, slowly, and felt a slight flush rising into his cheeks.

"Yeah, well..." he said, gruffly. "Shut your eyes, or I'm not playing anymore."

House shut his eyes immediately.

Chase allowed himself just a small, tiny smile, and then touched the bow to the strings once more.

By the end of the second piece, House was asleep, dozing peacefully.

Chase smiled, and continued to play.

* * *

House stirred, opening his eyes.

It was early morning, by the angle of the light coming through the bedroom window.

Chase was sleeping beside him, the violin on the bedside table, right next to an antique book Wilson had given him for Christmas some years ago.

House smiled a little, at the memory of Chase's playing, and gently kissed the blond's forehead. "Thanks."

Chase's lips curved a little, in a smile, though he didn't open his eyes. "Mmm-hmm."  
House got up, limping to the kitchen to scrounge something for breakfast.

His leg was still bad, but Chase had allowed him to really rest for the first time in over a week, and that had helped... a lot.

He'd just take it easy for a few days, be careful with how much he used the leg, and it would probably calm down.

He heard Chase pad out into the kitchen behind him, and turned around, grinning.

Chase was frowning, though. "Any idea where Wilson is?"

House tilted his head, looking past Chase out into the living room.

The couch was indeed empty, and it didn't look like it had been slept on.

He frowned a little, looking back at Chase. "No idea... He wasn't here when we got home, either..."

Chase shrugged, shaking his head, and joined House in getting out cereal bowls. "Guess he got laid, or something."

House snorted, pouring cereal for both himself and Chase.

* * *

Wilson opened his eyes.

That...wasn't House's living room ceiling.

And he wasn't on House's couch.

He was... on a bed.

Crap. He didn't... oh wait...

Oh....

Oh crap.

He slowly looked at the person sleeping next to him on the bed.

Lisa Cuddy didn't stir, other than to curl her hand a little further in the pillow, as Wilson stared at her naked form.

That hadn't been a dream, then.

Oh dear.

* * *

"Funny," said Chase, as they entered PPTH's lobby, going just a bit slower than usual, Chase's shoulder bumping against House's a few times on the way to the elevator. "Cameron was supposed to meet me in the lobby. She's got a patient she wanted me to take."

House shrugged. "I guess she got laid too."

Chase rolled his eyes. "I doubt it. She's been avoiding every guy who might at all want a relationship with her since she broke up with me."

* * *

Cameron opened her eyes, and blanched, as she looked at the clock.

The other person in her bed murmured a little, sleepily. "Stay a little longer... please."

"I can't, I've got to get to work. I was supposed to meet Chase. If I'm late, I'm sure he'll tell House."

The brown-haired woman raised her head off Cameron's stomach, blinking sleepy, beautiful eyes at her. "I guess..."

Cameron smiled. "I'll see you at lunch, Remy."

Thirteen smiled, and buried her head in the nice, Cameron-smelling pillows.

 

Chase smiled a little, sitting down at the table beside his partner.

House had his elbows on the table, and was leaning over his drink, chewing absently on the straw.

"Case?"

House didn't answer, kept staring at a drip of ketchup on the surface of the table.

Chase rolled his eyes, and wiped the sauce away with a napkin, breaking House's musings and making the older diagnostician look up at him, blinking. "Do you have a case?"

House nodded. "Yeah, but I know what they have, they're getting transferred in the morning."

Chase nodded. "Good. Then we're leaving early."

House blinked at him.

Chase looked.... ridiculously proud of himself.

He'd even shaved.

House slowly got up. "I'm...not really in the mood for anything..."

Chase shook his head, gripping House's left shirt sleeve, and tugging just a bit. "Come on, it's nothing that'll bother your leg."

House shrugged. "Okay."

Chase walked beside him, shoulder-to-shoulder, on the way out of the hospital.

They reached the car, and Chase opened the door for the older diagnostician.

House glared, but started to get in.

A blindfold looped around his head, and he grabbed for the roof of the car, and behind himself, at Chase. "What the hell?"

Chase was there, though, steadying him, gently holding his shoulders.

"Chase, what..."

"Do you trust me?"

"I...yeah. But what--"

"If you trust me, you don't need to know. I promise. If you're not comfortable, I understand completely. This doesn't happen if you don't want it to."

House had turned around, was gripping Chase's forearms.

Finally, he nodded. "I... do trust you. Just..."

"I'll make sure you don't get hurt."

House nodded again, and Chase gently guided the older man down into the passenger's seat.

House reached over, searching for Chase's hand.

Chase gripped House's hand, squeezed it gently, and let go.

They drove for a while, taking turns, stopping, starting, speeding up and slowing down.

Chase kept up a running commentary on scenery, funny bumper stickers, and the appearance and behavior of the nearby drivers.

Finally, the stopped, and the sound of the engine cut out.

House reached up, but Chase stopped him, gently. "Not yet. Is it getting uncomfortable?"

"How much longer?"

"A little while.'

"Then yeah. It's sweaty, and it's stating to get uncomfortable."

"I brought a fresh one."

House nodded.

"Keep your eyes closed."

"Okay."

Chase gently untied the blindfold, the black cotton cloth soft and slightly damp against his fingers. House kept his eyes closed, the lids twitching a bit as the air hit the damp, sensitive skin. Chase reached across the older doctor's body, covering the hand clenched tightly over the ruined thigh.

"Okay?" asked Chase, quietly, asking for House's trust.

House nodded, covering Chase's hand, sandwiching it between his own. "Okay.

The older diagnostician let go, and Chase got out the extra blindfold, tying it around House's head, making sure it wasn't too tight or too loose.

Chase got out, and walked around to the passenger side, opening the door, the metal cold against his hand in the cool fall air.

House had turned his head, and his forehead was crinkled in consternation.

Chase took the older doctor's hand. "We're gonna walk a little way, okay? Not too far, maybe a couple hundred feet, on flat surfaces. Is that okay?"

House nodded, gripping his cane and awkwardly climbing out of the car.

Chase gripped his left elbow, steering him gently towards the entrance of the building.

House stopped, suddenly, when they were almost to the front door.

Chase stepped in close beside him. "Are you alright?"

"Leg... just give me a minute. Misstepped a little."

"Sorry."

"No...just..."

"Okay."

House stood still for a little bit, hand holding on to Chase's shoulder, the fabric of the younger doctor's coat slightly damp and cool to the touch.

He finally nodded, and they continued forward.

Immediately after they entered the building, House tried to take off the blindfold again. "I smell oil."

Chase smiled. "Uh-huh. Leave it on."

"This feels stupid."

"Don't worry, okay? Trust me."

"Yeah, but..."

"Shhh."

House would have rolled his eyes, if it would have done any good.

He had to admit, though, he really didn't mind Chase doing this--he would have minded even less, if he weren't so on-edge about any misstep hie might take.

Chase gently tugged him forward, until they stopped.

"There's a table."

"We're at a massage place, aren't we?"

"Yep. Up you get, and stop talking."

House chuckled, appreciating Chase's no-nonsense tone, climbing up onto the table with Chase gently guiding him.

By the time he was shirt- and pants-less, House had realized the blindfold wasn't coming off.

He laid there, on his back on the table, Chase gently rubbing his arm, and tilted his head a little, as he heard the door open.

He smelled rose petals and the same massage oil he had smelled earlier, heavy but not unpleasantly so.

There were footsteps; well-worn sneakers, and then hands; gentle, feminine hands.

Familiar hands.

"...Ingrid?"

Chase chuckled--trust House to recognize someone by smell and touch alone, Auh-huh. I asked Wilson how to get in touch with her."

"Stop gabbing," said Ingrid, tersely.

House snorted, but did shut his mouth, eyes open beneath the blindfold, Chase's hand still warm and smooth against his arm.

It was Chase's right hand, and he could feel the slight ridges of scar tissue.

He moved his left hand, gripping Chase's hand and putting it in his own right, as skilled, oiled hands started to work on the treacherous, ruined muscles beneath his own scar.

He couldn't see it, or know it, but Chase was smiling at him, fondly, as the older doctor's body relaxed, the masseuse's ministrations breaking the spasms that had been plaguing him since he'd spent the night beside Chase in the hospital, after their disastrous dinner date.

House mentally promised himself to get back at Chase for this... he couldn't not take a challenge when he saw one, after all.

In the meantime, though, he decided it would be better to just let himself relax, and enjoy the fact that his pain had... finally.... broken....and....

Chase smiled, as House's hand slowly loosened in his own, as the older doctor fell deeply and peacefully asleep.

* * *

Chase blinked, as he opened the door to the bedroom after his shower, and found House sitting there, looking rather proud of himself. Some of Chase's clothes were laid out on the bed, House was already dressed, and there was a steaming cup of coffee on the table next to Chase's side of the bed.

Chase was sorely tempted to just turn around and go hide in the shower for the rest of the day, but knew too well that whatever House had planned would certainly be interesting, if not necessarily legal.

"It's six AM, what are you even doing up?" he asked, finally, after standing in the doorway holding his towel up around himself.

House grinned. "We're not going to have any time to look if we don't leave early enough."

Chase decided he would be more appreciative of House's plans after he'd had coffee.

Once properly caffeinated, he settled on the bed next to the older doctor, who still had that ridiculously proud grin on his face.

"Okay. Where are we going?"

"D.C."

"Why?"

"Because there's a museum in D.C."

"There... are more than one, in fact," said Chase, slowly. "Which one are you thinking of?"

House grinned, but not really mischievously, just happily. "Do you trust me?"

Chase paused, but nodded. "Yeah, I trust you. Of course I trust you."

House nodded, getting up. "Then get dressed. I'll make toast."

Chase nodded, slowly, and started putting on the clothes House had got out for him.

Weird, Wilson wasn't there... again.

* * *

Amber sighed, as the knocking continued... and continued... and continued.

Finally, she got up, and opened the door on James.

"I slept with Cuddy and it was a really stupid thing to do and doing it just made me realize that I need you and I'm sorry..."

He turned away, abruptly, and amber sighed, gently turning him back to face her. "James."  
He looked at her, quivering.

She smiled, and gently kissed his forehead. "I'm sorry james. But no."

"Why?"

"Because she's my friend."

* * *

Chase dozed, most of the drive to the District of Columbia, and House smiled, as he did so.

The blond had been working a lot, recently, and House had taken the massage thing as something of a dare to be a bit better boyfriend than he'd been recently.

He drove in relative silence, until they hit traffic, and he started to get bored.

He turned on the radio, and Chase started awake.

House glanced at him. "Hey. Sorry, didn't mean to wake you."

Chase smiled at him, and shook his head. "No, I'm glad. Been missing just having time alone with you."

House smiled, and Chase had to keep himself from laughing at the genuinely happy expression his partner was wearing.

House seemed really happy to be alone with him for a whole day, and Chase couldn't help but feel a little proud of that fact.

Chase reached across, smiling, and gripped the older doctor's hand on the shifter.

They eventually got out of traffic, through DC, and finally pulled up into a parking space along a rather run-down street of shops.

Chase looked at House, curiously, but the older man was already getting out of the car.

Chase followed, and they walked down the sidewalk for a while, House refusing to comment, until they got to a large metal archway, that read National Zoo.

Chase blinked at him. "You know there's a zoo in Philadelphia that's a lot closer."

House nodded. "But there's something cool at the Natural History Museum, too."

Chase smiled, and bumped his shoulder a little against House's as they headed down the zoo's asphalt path.

As they walked together, Chase realized that whether or not there actually was some exhibit somewhere else House wanted to see, the point of this was really just being together far away from everything else.

They walked at a slow pace, not so much because of the slightly rolling, wet path, but because they just had no reason to hurry.

The animals were cool, House teased him when they were near the Australian birds, and Chase teased him back about him not really knowing what he was talking about.

It was cold, and starting to rain, so they ducked into the great apes building.

There were gorillas and orangutans, in that building, and since there were benches in front of the main gorillas window, they ended up there, sitting together, watching the great black creatures move.

The biggest one was sitting up against a concrete fake tree, and as a smaller one climbed down, it stood, and bared its teeth.

The smaller one started to run, and the big one to run after it.

Chase laughed, quietly, leaning against his lover's shoulder.

A guy was standing there with a plastic gorilla skull, and Chase could tell House was about to start relieving his boredom on the guy, but the doors opened, and a group of kids and parents came in, filling in the space around the bench, up to the plexiglass window on the gorilla enclosure.

One kid sat on the bench, next to House, and Chase squeezed the older doctor's arm, briefly, in warning.

House glanced and him and shook his head, promising not to misbehave.

Chase smiled, and watched the kids stare at the giant primates.

There was something creepily human about them, and he had just turned to tell House that, when he stopped.

The kid had dropped their toy, and House was bending over to pick it up.

The mom was watching, but Chase smiled at her, and she smiled back, and turned back to what appeared to be her other spawn.

House handed the kid back the toy, and the kid smiled at him.

Chase smiled too--he'd forgotten that House did get along pretty well with children.

The kid turned back to watching the gorillas, and House turned to smile at Chase, just a little.

Chase grinned and nodded, tangling his fingers in House's, briefly, before letting go.

"Did it just eat poo?"

House looked at the gorillas, then at the kid. "Yep."

"Ew! Mom says that makes you sick! Is it gonna get sick?"

House smirked a little. "Doubt it. Gorillas have a different digestive system than humans. It knows how to fight off the bacteria in its poop, humans don't."

"Oh."

House turned back to the enclosure, and didn't notice just how warm a look Chase was giving him.

It was then, sitting in the warm building with gorillas eating feces in front of him, that Chase realized something.

He...

He wanted to spend the rest of his life with this man.

 

They eventually left the great ape building, walking back out into the cold rain.

House awkwardly held his jacket closed with one hand, as they walked, and Chase hugged himself around the chest, cold.

They didn't really want to leave just then, but the path was getting wet, and slippery, and House wasn't doing very well walking.

Chase could tell the older diagnostician was trying to keep from showing it, but it was obvious he was in a good deal of pain, and not particularly steady on his feet.

Chase gripped his arm, and tugged a little, gently. "Here. Come on, let's go to the visitor's center really quick."

House rolled his eyes, but complied.

They got there, and Chase for some reason limped on his way up to the counter.

A few moments later, they had two wheelchairs, and House was laughing as they raced down the hill back towards the animal enclosures.

It didn't take long, though, for them to find out that Chase absolutely sucked at using a wheelchair, after he ran into a tree.

House laughed, hard, as soon as he could tell the younger diagnostician wasn't hurt.

Chase smiled sheepishly at him, getting to his feet and righting the wheelchair.

Chase ended up returning the one wheelchair, and just walked along at his partner's speed.

They eventually headed back to the visitor's center, House returned the wheelchair, and they walked down the street to the car.

House got in the drivers' side, and Chase got in shotgun, smiling.

House turned the key in the ignition.

The engine revved, and revved, but didn't start, no matter how many times House turned the key.

Finally, it did turn over, but then there was a loud clunking sound, and smoke started to trail out of the hood.

"Well... that's probably not good," said Chase, slowly.

House snorted.

They got out of the car, and opened the hood, but it was smoking too hard to get a good look at what was going on.

Chase shut the hood, coughing. "I don't think we're driving back today."

House shook his head in agreement.

 

They ended up leaving the car there, and taking the DC subway system to the museum House wanted to see.

However, the map they had wasn't very good, and they ended up well and thoroughly lost.

They ended up just putting away the map and wandering, just talking, for over an hour, before ducking into a sandwich place for lunch.

Chase was smiling, House was grinning, and all in all it was a fine adventure.

However, after lunch, it had started to rain hard again, and they were still lost.

It was getting to be less of a fun adventure, and more worrying and uncomfortable.

House's leg was quite clearly bothering him, and Chase was freezing cold.

They finally found a subway station, and went down the escalator, managing to figure out which train to take to get back to their car.

They sat down in the train, on the faded orange-fabric covered plastic seats, and Chase leaned against House a little, shivering, his jacket rustling a little as he moved.

The train was cold from the draft each time it stopped, but at least it wasn't raining inside.

They got off at the right stop, and walked back out into the cold rain.

By the time they had gotten a hold of a tow-truck company, they were soaked, and bone-chillingly cold.

There was a nice looking restaurant across the street, and the tow truck wouldn't be there for another hour at least, so they crossed and entered the building.

It was well furnished, with red wood chairs, and a nice, warm interior.

There was a fireplace off in a corner, and they ended up getting seated right beside it.

It was incredibly warm, and nice inside, and Chase smiled at House, as the older doctor looked at the menu.

Chase reached across, gripping the older doctor's cool, callused right hand, which was resting on the table.

House looked up, and met Chase's eyes, and smiled, almost a little shly.

Chase smiled in return.

"Sorry this turned out to be such a crappy day," said House, sighing, as Chase let go.

Chase shook his head. "No, it was a lot of fun. I'm serious..."

House looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

Chase smiled a little to himself. "I'm serious, Greg."

House paused, for a moment, then grinned a little. "Yeah. That's just weird, Chase."

Chase laughed.

The waitress came, and they ordered; House got spinach dip and steak, Chase got roasted duck.

 

House watched the younger doctor, as Chase studied the fireplace, which was a bit of a strange mixture of brick and stone construction.

He knew the incredibly warm feeling inside him had nothing to do with the food in his belly, or the fire by their table.

He smiled, and drew a bit of bread through the dip.

He... could really get used to this.

 

Chase smiled, as he rested against House's side, crammed tight into the back of the tow-truck, House's arm wrapped around his back, as they rode.

It was dark and cold in the back of the truck, and they could just barely make out the other cars out the tiny, dirty windows.

House was warm and soft against his side, and his hand came up, gently smoothing Chase's ruffled hair.

"You know what we could do?"

Chase shook his head, smiling in the dark. "Shut up, Greg."

House laughed, quietly, and rested his head against Chase's.

"Okay."

* * *

Amber yawned, padding out to the door, and pulling it open, as someone knocked continuously upon it.

She blinked. "James?"

Wilson swallowed, and stepped in. "Amber... I... made a stupid decision. I didn't know, when I made it, just how stupid it was. I need you, Amber. I'm sorry... I... I've..."

She stepped forward, and kissed him, gently at first, but then he responded, and it became more passionate.

She broke away, breathing heavily, an inch away from his face. "I've missed you too, James."

* * *

House yawned, leaning down and opening several drawers.

"I found some carpet cleaner, could have caused the neurological symptoms," said Thirteen, coming into the room.

House nodded, closing the drawers.

Suddenly they heard sirens outside and tried to make a run for it, but thirteen tripped, and they were on the second floor, and before long they were sitting in the Princeton Police Department jail.

* * *

Chase sighed, walking up the steps into the police station

He walked up to the receptionist's window, and rang the bell, leaning against the solid gray counter.

The door opened behind him while he was waiting, and he looked over his shoulder.

He blinked, when he saw that it was Cameron. "Get a parking ticket, or something?"

She blushed a little, which confused Chase. "Uh, no... I'm bailing Remy out."

Chase paused for a moment. "Thirteen?"

Cameron nodded, not meeting Chase's eyes. "So are you here for a parking ticket?"

Chase shook his head, smiling a bit. "I'm bailing House out... again."

Cameron opened her mouth to ask something, but just then someone came to the window, and Chase turned to talk to them.

Half an hour later, House and Hadley walked--limped, both of them--into the lobby area.

Cameron hurried forward, touching thirteen's arm. "What happened? You're limping, are you alright?"

Chase and House watched the other two for a minute, then looked at each other and shrugged, walking shoulder-to-shoulder on the way out of the station.

* * *

Wilson walked into Cuddy's office, with a big smile on his face. "Hey, you paged me?"

She nodded at him, frowning a little at his glowing expression. "What happened to you?"

Wilson smiled, knowing their one-night-stand had only strengthened their friendship, how much they cared for each other in a completely platonic way. "I'm back with Amber."

Cuddy nodded, slowly. "James... I'm pregnant."

Wilson stopped smiling, stared, and then squeaked. "Pregnant?"

Cuddy nodded.

Wilson swallowed. "Oh."

* * *

Chase smiled, as he laid in bed with his arm wrapped over House's chest, the older doctor's arm unconsciously circling his own waist from below.

"House?"

"Mmm?" asked House, sleepily.

"I... wanna be with you for the rest of my life."

"Th's nice...." mumbled House, turning his head so his nose was nestled against the top of Chase's head.

Chase chuckled into the older doctor's shirt. "Uh-huh."

A while passed, and Chase was mostly asleep, when House finally murmured. "Me too."

Chase smiled.

* * *

House shifted his bad leg, as Chase straddled his waist, leaning over him, pinning his wrists.

House grinned, and Chase smiled, leaning down, pressing his lips against House's mouth.

A sharp intake of breath was the response, and he grinned, and licked his lips, pressing them against House's stubbled neck, around under the curve of his jaw, behind his ear, and gently sucked down along House's carotid artery.

House made a taught, whimpering sound.

Chase grinned. "Feel good?"

"Mmmph..."

Chase chuckled, and returned to what he had been doing.

He reached into the drawer by the bed, taking out the leather cuffs and blindfold that were there.

House grinned up at him, expectantly.

 

Chase sighed, contentedly, as House's chin nestled atop his head. He burried his face in the crook of the older diagnostician's neck. "Mmm... was gonna tell you when I got home..."

"Hmm?"

"Cuddy's pregnant."

Chase chuckled. "I bet that's gonna go well."

House grinned, giving Chase a slightly clumsy kiss on the top of the head--he couldn't exactly see where he was aiming, as he was still blindfolded.

Chase sat up, smiling. "Uh-huh. I think Wilson broke up with Amber."

House jerked his head. "Shut up and get back here."

Chase laid back on top of the older diagnostician and buried his face in House's neck once more, making a small, contented, happy sound.

House smiled, and rested his cheek against the top of Chase's head. "Chase?"

"What?"

"Are you going to untie me?"

"I don't particularly feel like it, no."

"....Chase."

"Mmm?"

"You need to untie me."

"Why?"

"Because I can't reach for what's in the second drawer with my hands tied behind my head."

Chase stared down at him, silent, for a long while. Then he opened the specified drawer. There was a blue velvet-covered box. He shut the drawer.

House was frowning, apprehensive.

Chase laid down, wrapping his arm around the older man's torso, his cheek pressing up against House's face.

He could feel House grin.


End file.
